Page 77 of Counting Down To You

I run my hands up, over his chest, to rest on his shoulders. His eyes close, and I see his pulse jump at his neck. Almost like he can’t help it, he reaches for me, his hands coming to my sides, over my lacy top, skimming down to my waist, then tightening at my back. I arch into his touch without thinking and his eyes snap open. He stares at me for an impossibly long moment, both of us still. Touching but not moving. Not taking it any further.

“Are you sure?” His voice is hoarse.

I nod. “I’m sure.”

He searches my face, like he’s looking for something. Doubt, maybe. Then, slowly, he bends his head, kisses the space between my shoulder and neck. I can’t help the way my hands tighten their hold on him. His teeth scrape lightly in place of his lips and I angle my neck back. He lets out a sound that might be an oath—I can’t quite hear over the roaring that has started in my ears.

Slowly, with almost predatory intent, he moves me, so that I am the one against the door, my body arching into him, desperate for contact. His mouth continues its path up my neck, his hand gently pushing my hair out the way. A tiny little whimper escapes me and he kisses me harder this time. My whole body feels hot, needy. All from the feel of his lips on my skin.

I run my hands along his chest, hating the material that separates us. I reach for the first closed button of his shirt, but he catches my hands in one of his, pins them above my head. His other hand moves down slowly, then up the front of my pajama top, his thumb lightly moving against my stomach. I feel like a furnace, ready to explode.

He watches his hand, under my top. My breathing is fast, ragged. Desperate.

“You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to touch you,” he murmurs, and his hand circles higher. “It’s torture, every time you’re in the room.”

“Well, right back at you.” It comes out as a gasp as his thumb sweeps the outside curve of my breast. My nipples pinch, something pulling low inside me. He’s being so gentle. Too fucking gentle. I push my hips toward him, hands still trapped, trying to get closer, to get more.

He huffs out a breath that might be a laugh, presses his forehead against mine. “Ali, I need to—”

But he’s let go of my hands, and I use them to reach between us, palming the bulge in his jeans. He lets out a hiss.

I’m done with waiting, with talking about it. I can’t remember the last time I felt like this, can’t remember the last time I wanted someone like this. So even if it’s only for one night, I’m going to take a bit of his philosophy and live in the moment.

His hands travel down, beneath my shorts now, cupping my ass. Pulling me tighter to him. I press my mouth to his neck, scrape my teeth there. The sharp intake of his breath sends a pleasant jolt through my own system.

I’m not sure who leads who, but somehow we’ve covered the small distance to the bed, and he moves back onto it, pulling me down with him so that I’m straddling his thighs. He kisses me, catching my bottom lip with his teeth as I rock against him. My breathing is fast and shaky between kisses, my fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt until between us we have it undone. He shrugs it off and finally I can touch the contours of his chest, finally I can dig my fingers into his back, feel him arch toward me.

He lies back, not letting go of my waist so that I go with him. I look down at him, my fingers trailing lightly over his scar. He tenses and I wonder if he’s self-conscious about it. So I kiss down past it, across his stomach, lower, to just above his jeans. I feel his muscles tighten to breaking point. I sit back up, crossing my arms over my head to pull off my top, feeling my skin burn as his gaze travels over every inch of me.

Every limb feels hot, unsteady. I reach down to touch him again, but he flips us so he is on top. He takes my hands, presses them to the headboard. He pulls one of my legs around his hip, skin against skin. His breathing is heavy now too.

“Just let me.” It’s almost a plea. His hands travel down my torso, tiny currents of electricity dancing over my skin. His mouth follows the path of his hands, and I lift my hips as he kisses my stomach.

He eases down my pajama bottoms, and I hear his audible swallow when he sees the black lace underwear that I’m still wearing. “Fuck, Ali.” His fingers trail up the inside of my thigh and I feel the low gratifying pull in my pelvic bone, the sense of anticipation.

He pushes my legs wider, kissing the top of my inner thigh, making me gasp.

“Leo.” It’s my turn, now, to plead.

His fingers slide into my underwear, then inside me. I roll my hips as he moves his fingers, pressure growing until I’m shuddering. His thumb circles my swollen clit, and I tighten around his fingers. He circles again, looking up at me, our gazes clashing right as he presses his thumb down.

Jesus fucking Christ. I buck into him as a mini release rolls through me. But it’s still not enough.

“Leo,” I plead again, grabbing for him, only managing to reach his hair to pull him back up to me. I hear the click of a belt buckle, sit up to help him out of his jeans. He moves over me, and I reach between us, thrilling at the feeling of him in my hand. His head bows into my shoulder. I can feel his heartbeat against mine.

“Fuck,” he says as my hand closes around him. He groans, pushing himself into my hand. “I want to be inside you, Ali.”

“I want you to be too.” My fingers tighten and he pushes again, like he can’t help it.

“I want to, but I don’t have a—”

“I do.” Because, who am I kidding, there was a part of me hoping, after he said he’d come with me, that it would lead to this.

My heart hammering, I ease out from under him to grab my bag. I fumble with the wrapper, swearing. He laughs, low and dark, and takes it from me, kissing me.

Then, finally, he’s pushing into me, slowly, carefully. I hear the sound I make as he does, lifting my knees up round his waist. His gaze holds mine and something shimmers between us. Then we are moving together, and I try not to think about how we fit together, try to stay focused in this moment alone.

I lift my hips, drawing us closer. My whole world narrows to the feel of him, to his mouth on mine. He shifts, sitting back then, pulling me onto him, before pushing back into me, deeper this time. My fingers rake down his back, his mouth bites my neck. He reaches between us, thumb finding my clit again.